In John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, we meet a man named “Formalist.” As Bunyan describes elsewhere,
Formalist . . . is a man that has lost all but the shell of religion. He is hot, indeed, for his form; and no marvel, for that is his all to contend for. But his form being without the power and spirit of godliness, it will leave him in his sins; nay, he stands now in them in the sight of God (2 Timothy 3:5), and is one of the many that “will seek to enter in, and shall not be able.” (The Strait Gate, 85)
Bunyan assumes this man is unregenerate, and there is reason enough to think so. Notice: this man is not without some fervency, but the object of his heat is merely forms, traditions, and rituals. He is passionate about the husk or scaffolding of religion, but not about God himself. If one has the correct forms or doctrine, it is enough. If one’s church attendance is consistent, he is good to go. So he thinks.
Formalism in the Old Testament
Formalists believe that a right show of religion merits favor in the eyes of God. They are deceived into thinking that God is impressed with the externals even when there is no heart of worship within — an error that many prophets in the Old Testament denounced. In Hosea, God tells the people, “I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings” (Hosea 6:6). The problem is even more pronounced in Isaiah:
What to me is the multitude of your sacrifices?
says the Lord;
I have had enough of burnt offerings of rams
and the fat of well-fed beasts;
I do not delight in the blood of bulls,
or of lambs, or of goats.
When you come to appear before me,
who has required of you
this trampling of my courts?
Bring no more vain offerings;
incense is an abomination to me.
New moon and Sabbath and the calling of convocations —
I cannot endure iniquity and solemn assembly.
Your new moons and your appointed feasts
my soul hates;
they have become a burden to me;
I am weary of bearing them. (Isaiah 1:11–17)
Such language may seem severe, and it is. God is speaking to a very formally religious people. They consistently bring their offerings. They appear before God on a regular basis. They observe the Sabbath, convocations, new moons, and feasts. But something has gone terribly wrong. They are doing the right activities, but God is outraged.
Why? Their religion is just a shell. It is what Jesus calls a whitewashed tomb (Matthew 23:27). The outside looks ritzy, but inside are bones and cobwebs. There is no life, no desire for God. They are walking in dead orthodoxy.
Formalism in the New Testament
Formalists worshiped freely in the temple during the days of Christ. The temple was one of the wonders of the world. Its exterior was made of marble and gold. The Middle Eastern sun radiated off its walls, causing it to shine for miles around. At one time, as many as eighty thousand people worked on the temple complex day and night. When complete (after decades of construction), the full grounds spanned the length of about eight football fields. Inside the temple was the treasury, holding the equivalent in our day of more than two billion dollars.
The temple was magnificent. It was flashy. It was religious. Sacrifices were performed around the clock. Josephus estimates that, during Passover week alone, there would be 250,000 lambs sacrificed. It was regularly thronged with pilgrims. It was dotted with priests, scribes, and religious teachers at all hours of the day.
But how did Jesus react to it all? “Do you see these great buildings? There will not be left here one stone upon another that will not be thrown down” (Mark 13:2). In AD 70, this is exactly what happened. The Roman army burned the city to the ground, including the temple, and put an end to the priesthood and sacrifices. It was all gone. Jesus explains that the judgment resulted from this exceedingly religious people rejecting their Messiah. They had a form of godliness, clearly. They burned with zeal concerning the law and its performances. They grew exacting in their rituals. But their religion was dead. It was a shell. So God ended it.
Formalism Today
What of our forms, traditions, and religion today? How often do people go through the motions in their Christian lives, including on Sundays? The practices of the Christian faith are not bad in themselves, of course, but if they do not stir up our affections for Christ, they become not only bad but damnable.
J.C. Ryle described formalism as “when a man is a Christian in name only, and not in reality — in outward things only, and not in his inward feelings — in profession only, and not in practice — when his Christianity, in short, is a mere matter of form, or fashion, or custom, without any influence on his heart or life.”
In The Pilgrim’s Progress, what surprises Christian most about Formalist is not his disdain for the gospel in preference to custom and tradition, but that he refuses to accept Christian’s counsel about his soul. Formalist tells Christian to “look to himself.” Don’t trouble your head about it, he tells him. Like so many, the formalist doesn’t like to be corrected. His doctrine is precise; his church attendance impeccable. Who are you to tell him he doesn’t have the real thing?
I am not encouraging us to call out every person who is not as warm or zealous as they should be. I am encouraging us to examine our own hearts and to consider the counsel we have received regarding our own souls. We pastors might also consider our own churches. Both individuals and churches can both get to a place where — because we have correct doctrine, an order of worship regulated by the Scriptures, God-exalting music, and expository preaching — we think we have everything we need. But without the Spirit of God, the best outward forms are only a husk.
How many churches today are looking to pageantry, liturgy, pragmatism, and other outward forms of religion to juice up their congregations and fill the spiritual void in their worship? Others lean upon traditions and rituals. But it would be better to have a church that sings out of tune from the heart than one that sings in tune for the sake of self-glory. The same is true of sermons or prayers or any other practice in the church. When it comes to the Christian religion, externals are not everything — not even close.
Form and Power
Every Christian experiences drought and deadness from time to time. I’m not speaking of that common grief. Formalism is more deep-seated, more insidious. Are there any readers who go to church, read their Bible, catechize their children, know plenty of doctrine, are exact in their duties, but have never been born again? Some do these activities simply because they were raised to do so, or because they want to stay out of hell.
Do you know your confessions and creeds but refuse to forgive your enemies or spend time in secret prayer? Are you an expert in theology but a stranger to what Paul means when he says, “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us” (Romans 5:5)? We’re told in Psalm 34:8 to “taste and see that the Lord is good!” Have you tasted this?
The person and work of Jesus is the only way we are made right with God. He is the only road that leads to life. In The Pilgrim’s Progress, before Formalist goes off to his destruction, Christian warns him, “You come in by yourselves, without his direction; and shall go out by yourselves, without his mercy.”
Has Christ shown you what real, living, experiential Christianity is? If not, ask him to take out your stony heart and give you a heart of flesh, one alive and sensitive to the things of God, sin, and your neighbor. He is the one who gives sight to the blind. He is the friend of sinners. He is the one who came to seek and to save those who are lost. Go to him today. Call on him now, without waiting. Jesus says, “If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” (Luke 11:13). Jesus has been saving formalists for centuries, and for those who turn to him in faith, today is no exception!